


tell me, did you fall for a shooting star?

by clarkesquad



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, future fic i guess (like a year in the future), they're soulmates ok that's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-25 00:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3789508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkesquad/pseuds/clarkesquad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sky is clear and the stars are bright, but Clarke feels like she’s only half paying attention. And she supposes that’s okay. Because only one of them is in love with the constellations and it’s definitely not the girl who spent seventeen years in love with the Earth.</p>
<p>The one where Clarke and Lexa are soulmates and they barely know it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tell me, did you fall for a shooting star?

**Author's Note:**

> please love yourself and listen to drops of jupiter
> 
> also, a personal note to asmy and the entire highkey squad: fuck off.

“Shh.” Lexa breathes against her hair, breaking the silence for the first time since they managed to get their breathing back under control. She’s already lost track of how long they’ve been silent, just like this – Clarke tucked into Lexa’s side, warm skin against warm skin, Lexa’s mouth against her hair, pressing kisses to her hairline every once in a while.

Clarke shifts her head back, craning her neck to look up at Lexa. Her eyes settle on the curve of her neck and they start to drift up. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking loudly. It’s very disruptive of the moment.”

She’s not wrong, but Clarke can’t blame herself, really. There’s a lot to think about right now, even if she feels like for once there’s nothing in her life to fix. Not right now, not in this moment. Still, she’s feeling sentimental, and maybe that involves some thinking.

“What’s wrong with thinking?” Clarke looks up at her, only now noticing that she still hasn’t opened her eyes.

“You don’t need to think tonight. Just... be.”

She takes advantage of Lexa’s relaxed state to just look at her. Clarke pushes herself up further on the pillow they share. She props her head against the palm of her hand, reveling in the permanent half-smile that Lexa has. She wants to reach out – stroke her face, smooth down her hair, kiss her lips – but she doesn’t want to shatter this moment.

She can try it Lexa’s way. She can just _be_ for a little while. Besides, after everything they’ve been through over the last year, maybe she deserves to have a moment of real peace. She’s earned that much. They both have.

After a few minutes of silence, Clarke can’t resist reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind Lexa’s ear, stroking her thumb down her cheek as she does. Lexa finally blinks. Green eyes meet blue and Lexa smiles.

“Do you want me to open the hatch?” She looks at Clarke and then up at the hatch – a trap door in the ceiling that Clarke knows is Lexa’s favorite part of her home.

“Yeah. That’d be nice.”

Maybe Lexa is even more sentimental than she is, because she has to know their unspoken rule about the hatch. It’s always been about their firsts.

The first time Clarke came to Polis.

(The first time Clarke forgave her completely.)

The first time they kissed again.

(The first time they fell asleep in Lexa’s bed, watching the stars.)

The first time they won a war together.

(The first time Clarke saw Lexa cry. _Really_ cry, mourning the deaths of hundreds. Her people _and_ Clarke’s. _Their_ people.)

And now, tonight. The first time Lexa told her she loves her.

(The first time Clarke whispered it back against her lips, laced their fingers together, and tugged her inside until her knees hit the back of Lexa’s bed. The first time they undressed each other, pressing kisses to every inch of skin they could find. The first time they ignored the world completely – ignored the sky, ignored the ground, ignored the stars, ignored anyone but them. Their _first_ time.)

Lexa pushes herself up, wrapping one of the blankets around herself as she stands in the center of the mattress – it does nothing to change the fact that Clarke has already seen everything there is to see, but the effort is cute. It’s very _Lexa_. Not that it works, and for someone who has been opening this hatch for years now, Lexa probably could have guessed that much.

She reaches up with one hand to release the hatch and then as an afterthought, drops the sheets in favor of pushing against the door with both hands. Clarke leans back against the pillows, enjoying the view. She really does like the tattoos on Lexa’s back. The door of the hatch swings open and she sinks back into the mattress next to Clarke.

Lexa pulls the sheets around them again. She puts her arm around her, pulling her closer, and Clarke tucks her head into the crook of Lexa’s neck. She feels a kiss pressed to her hair and hums. When Lexa reaches for her hand and lazily laces their fingers together, Clarke decides there’s something about looking through the hatch tonight that feels different. Closer. She feels closer to her.

The sky is clear and the stars are bright, but Clarke feels like she’s only half paying attention. And she supposes that’s okay. Because only one of them is in love with the constellations and it’s definitely not the girl who spent seventeen years in love with the Earth.

“You know, when I was on the ark,” She starts, “I had a window about the size of this.” She points towards the ceiling. “Same shape, too. I don’t think I ever went a day without looking at the Earth, but I never looked at the stars. Not even once.” She tilts her head up to look at Lexa. “Funny how you take things for granted.”

She figures Lexa has to know a little something about that. She’s always been just as unaffected by the water and the trees as Clarke has been by the moon.

“What was it like?”

Clarke knows that she doesn’t mean Earth. Not Earth from space, anyway. She lost count of how many times she’s drawn it for her. Trying to explain why the earth wasn’t flat – that was a frustrating experience. Part of her thinks that Lexa still doesn’t totally believe her.

“Lonely. It was lonely. Everyone on the Ark knew everyone on the ark. I mean, we lived in a tin can in the sky with nowhere to go and nothing to do, it was hard _not_ to know everyone. But still, it was lonely. It was no way to live, or at least it wasn’t for me. I would dream about Earth a lot.”

She tilts her head back to see Lexa nodding at her to continue. And this is probably why she loves her. Lexa always knows her, knows when she has more to say, knows when she’s talking about something that means something to her.

“I always just felt like I was in the wrong place. Like I was meant for Earth, or maybe it was the other way around.” Clarke laughs softly. “Wells used to tell me I was obsessed. He loved Earth too, but not like me.”

And that’s another thing about what she has with Lexa. She can talk about Wells, just like Lexa can talk about Anya. For some reason, it doesn’t hurt so much with her.

“But I don’t know if it was an obsession, I think I was just... lonely. And it was frustrating, because I had so many people, but I still felt so lonely. Do you know what that’s like?”

“Profoundly so.” Lexa says without hesitation.

“It was like I wasn’t _me_ up there. Like I was always waiting for something to make me feel like... _me_.” She shakes her head. The chances of any of this making sense keep dropping with every word she says, but she can’t stop. “I thought I’d find that on Earth.”

“Was it everything you hoped it would be?”

“No.” Clarke bites the corner of her bottom lip and stares into the sky, trying to remember the Ark. Being locked on the inside, longing for Earth.  Looking down on the swirling green, blue, and white beneath her. Her face pressed against the glass as if getting just inches closer would help her see something new.

Those memories have already started to fade for her. “No, it was nothing like I pictured it. I would dream of trees and... forests and lakes and... dogs.”

“Dogs?” She can hear the smile in Lexa’s tone. “Everyone knows there’s no such thing.”

Clarke sits up and regrets it almost immediately when she loses the warmth of Lexa’s side. “No, there used to be. I’ve seen one. I mean, on TV and in pictures. But, still... I knew I probably wouldn’t see any. Our scientists on the Ark came up with all these estimates of which species would die out or evolve or revert back to wilder instincts.”

“You know I don’t understand half the words you say, right?” Lexa says with a happy smile, as if she couldn’t care less if she understood what Clarke was saying, as long as she kept talking.

Clarke laughs and leans forward, pressing a kiss to her lips. Neither of them stop smiling long enough to deepen the kiss, but it’s a sweet one. Light. Gentle. _Fun._ Lexa tugs at her bottom lip with her teeth and Clarke laughs into her mouth. She almost falls into the kiss entirely, but she still has more to say. She wants to put this into words, if that’s even possible.

She pulls back and sobers a little bit, furrowing her eyebrows and letting her focus drift towards Lexa’s eyes. “I knew Earth wasn’t going to be perfect, and I knew there was a good chance it would just kill me on impact. But, there was a lot of things that I had held out hope for. I didn’t find them.”

Lexa frowns. The kissing is probably over for now and she doesn’t seem too enthusiastic about the idea. Whatever – Clarke can more than make up for it later. Lexa must know that, too, because she leans back into the pillows again and pulls Clarke down. They lay on their sides and Clarke tangles their legs together.

“I didn’t find them,” She repeats. “I found Mountain Men and mutant deer and... an army of hostile natives.” She grins, waiting for Lexa’s reaction. When it comes, it’s nothing but the raise of an eyebrow and a purse of her lips. It’s enough to make her feel a little guilty. “Fine, an army of _justifiably_ hostile natives.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She pauses, trying to figure out what she wants to say. She doesn’t even know where she’s going with this, but if anyone could understand her it’s Lexa. “It wasn’t what I wanted. But it was close. At least it was when I wasn’t focused on _just surviving_.”

Lexa smiles and Clarke knows why.

“It was close, but I still felt like something was missing, I guess. Like there was more for me. Do you ever feel like that?”

She nods. “All my life. It’s a hard feeling to describe when you’re the commander.” She reaches out and toys with a lock of Clarke’s hair, “There’s nothing more infuriating than having thousands of people at your beck and call, every hour of every day, all wanting to give you everything you could possibly want...” She drops her hand, settling it between them, “And not knowing what to ask for.”

“Exactly. That’s what it was, I felt that too. I thought I’d feel that forever. I knew it had to do with the Ark and the Earth, but I just... it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack, but you don’t even know what a needle is and the haystack is behind a wall of glass.”

The corner of her lips quirk up and Clarke almost thinks she’s mocking her until she says, “I may not understand your metaphors, but I think I understand what you’re trying to say.”

“Do you? I’m not even sure if I do.”

“I do.” Lexa reaches for her hand again and strokes her thumb across Clarke’s knuckles. “In the simplest way, you felt like you weren’t complete yet. You were very much your own person, as you are now, but you felt like you had untapped potential. I cannot tell you how often I’ve felt like that.”

“Why does it make so much more sense when you say it?”

Before Lexa can let that get to her head, Clarke rolls onto her back again, shifting closer to tuck herself into Lexa’s side one more time. Lexa takes the opportunity to run her hands through Clarke’s hair, scratching lightly at her scalp as she does so.

Clarke hums. “That feels good.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, maybe even longer. Maybe much longer. Clarke can’t tell. She gets lost in the warmth and the comfort and the sky and the way that Lexa touches her like she’s half a constellation. Like every inch of Lexa’s skin on hers is what strings the stars together.

She finds herself thinking maybe this is what bliss feels like.

Clarke almost falls asleep that way, until Lexa breaks the silence again.

“Do you still feel like that?”

Clarke blinks her eyes open. “Hm?”

“Do you still feel like part of you is missing?”

“Not anymore.” It’s something that she doesn’t even realize until she says it, and then she feels a new kind of warmth bloom in her chest. “What about you?”

Lexa thinks about it for a moment before she feels her shake her head. “I don’t think I’ve felt it in a long time.”

Clarke smiles.

“Clarke?”

“Hm?”

She rubs her hand down the side of Clarke’s arm. It’s a feeling she could definitely get used to.

She swallows before she says, “I think I know what it was.”

“Yeah, I think I do too.”

With her head against Lexa's chest, she doesn't miss the way Lexa's heartbeat quickens and it forces her to fight off a smile. That's a battle she loses.

"You're cute, you know that?" She says, turning around and pushing herself up far enough so that she can cup Lexa's cheek and kiss her again. It's less playful than their last one. It carries the kind of meaning that neither of them ever thought that they would find, especially not in each other.

Clarke weaves her fingers through Lexa's hair, taking advantage of the fact that it isn't in her braids. She'd already taken the time to undo those before either of them had shed a single piece of clothing. When she pulls back to breathe, Lexa searches her face for something.

"Is that what you were thinking about?"

Clarke leans down to kiss her shoulder and hums. "Mm. Among other things."

"What else–" She falters when Clarke's lips slide closer to her neck. "What were the other things?"

"It's not important." She whispers against her skin before she trails a line of kisses up her neck. She takes note of the way Lexa's breath gets shallow.

And maybe she takes a little pride in it too.

"Would you tell me anyway?"

Clarke pulls back and shakes her head. "No. I think it's better if I show you."

She kisses her. She cherishes her like Lexa cherishes the stars. She craves her like she once craved the Earth, and she loves her in all the ways they fell in love with the wrong things.

 


End file.
